


blue mirage

by itsahockeyplay



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - Firefighters, M/M, the lowkey 911 au no one asked for yeehaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-04-24 00:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsahockeyplay/pseuds/itsahockeyplay
Summary: "What your problem?" Geno said, calm and unperturbed. "You wanna say something to me?""I — no, I don't wanna — " Sid spluttered, crossing his arms."You sure?" Geno said, crossing his arms on the countertop as he leaned against it. "Seem like maybe you have problem, and I not want that.""I don't have a problem," Sid said, focussing on wiping down the countertops even though he'd already done it. "Not even a bit."***Sid definitely doesn't have a problem with the newest recruit, no matter what anyone else says.





	blue mirage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ljummen (Vendelin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendelin/gifts).



> title comes from bts' euphoria
> 
> this is the loosely-based 911 au no one asked for yeehaw !! ljummen i started this exchange with another fic in mind but that became Super Fucking Long n i realized i wouldn't have time to finish it for the exchange so u got this instead sorry bb :( i hope u like it anyway !!!!!!!!! i had fun writing it !!!!!

It isn't that Sid hated the guy or anything. Really.

Geno was great. Friendly, competent — really, what more could one ask for in a fellow firefighter? An easy grin and always willing to go along with the joke. Easy-going.

Still, though — still, something about him rubbed Sid the wrong way. _No one_ was this easy going. _No one_ was this playful. _No one_ was this willing to go along with the joke, not without some serious shit going on behind the scenes.

Maybe that was the issue: Geno pretended there _wasn't_ a behind the scenes, and that wasn't something Sid was willing to entertain. Being part of the 118 meant you were _family_ , and family fucking shared. A month in, and Sid only knew two things about Geno: Geno had a kid, and he loved sushi.

The kid thing was important, but the sushi thing really wasn't. The fact that Geno always ducked out of team-bonding activities on account of having a kid, well — Sid understood having a kid was a full time job, maybe even more than that, but they'd had other people on the team that had kids and still managed to make it out every couple of weeks. It just felt like Geno didn't _want_ to, and that wasn't okay.

"You realize glaring him into a puddle isn't going to stop him being Geno, right?"

Tearing his eyes away, Sid gave Flower a look. "Turning him into a puddle would, actually, turn him into something that wasn't Geno, so you're wrong about that. And if you can still talk, you're probably not running fast enough on that treadmill."

"Whatever," Flower said, shrugging, slowing down even more, barely out of breath. "You're just being annoying about your obsession with Geno again, so I'm annoyed. And I'm running plenty fast, thanks."

"It isn't an _obsession_ ," Sid said, resisting the urge to look over as Geno went into his locker — probably wearing those enormous headphones he always had on if he were walking anywhere; it was just asking to get run over, really — and instead lifted the weights in his right hand even more intensely. The weight room allowed you to look into the locker room, just a glass pane separating the two; it wasn't a great design, in Sid's opinion. "I'm just — curious. Worried."

" _Obsessed_ ," Flower said, and Sid didn't have to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes. "Just admit you're fucking obsessed and let the rest of us live."

Before Sid could answer, the alarm rang loud, and Sid tried not to breathe a sound of relief — people potentially dying just so Sid could avoid a conversation wasn't something to be thankful for, no matter how well-timed.

An older woman mistaking the signs of a panic attack for a heart attack — a good distraction, making Sid feel a lot better for feeling thankful for a distraction from Geno.

That was, of course, if Geno hadn't been the first one in, smiling at the old lady and engaging her in banter, ingratiating himself well enough the old lady made sure they left with a batch of chocolate chip cookies and nothing less, which, of course, Geno made sure to boast about.

"You welcome," he announced, setting them down in the makeshift dining room upstairs. "Is gift from me." Leaning over the railing, he called out, "Duper, come, eat cookie I bring!"

"A gift from sweet old ladies who don't realize what an asshole you actually are," Tanger said as he swiped a cookie, straddled a chair, and munched on it with a raised eyebrow aimed at Geno. "It's okay, though. I forgive her. It's easy to mistake you for a good guy."

"She just have good sense," Geno said, mouth full of cookie. "Smart lady." And, of course, Geno caught the fact Sid didn't take a cookie and decided to call him out in front of everyone. "Sid! No cookie?"

"I'm good," Sid said, washing some of the dishes sitting in the sink — Duper, as the captain, cooked for them, and doing dishes was the least Sid could do to help out considering how much of a fire hazard him trying to cook usually was — and avoiding eye contact.

"Your loss," Geno said.

"Yup." There wasn't a better way to answer, even if Flower somehow showed up at Sid's side, elbowed him, hissing, "He's trying to be friendly," because what the fuck was Sid supposed to say?

Instead of dwelling on it, Sid focussed on washing the dishes, the rhythm of rinse-soap-rinse making it easy to zone out and think about — nothing.

Well. Really, think about Geno, but Sid didn't want to admit that out loud. Thinking about Geno wasn't anything Sid ever wanted to admit aloud, especially considering how often he did it, so instead, Sid focussed on cleaning up — setting the dishes aside, wiping down the counters, making sure the pans and dishes were clean enough for Duper to use when he needed to.

It probably took longer than Sid thought because by the time he was done, he could see people walking in to relieve the others of their shifts — which meant his shift was over, too. Not something he generally looked forward to, if he were being honest, because his shift being over meant going home to an empty apartment, a home that felt nothing like that, a place he hated to be.

Becoming a firefighter had never been about finding family, but it had become his reality, and going home to nothing — well, that never felt good. If possible, Sid would live at the station, but Duper had vetoed that idea before Sid had ever even asked aloud.

"So what your problem?"

Startled, Sid dropped the drying cloth, staring wide-eyed at Geno, who was staring straight back with a furrowed brow and challenge in his eyes, elbows on the countertop across from Sid.  

"What?"

"What your problem?" Geno said, calm and unperturbed. "Wanna say something to me?"

"I — no, I don't wanna — " Sid spluttered, crossing his arms.

"You sure?" Geno said, straightening, crossing his arms. "Seem like maybe you have problem. Not want that."

"I don't have a problem," Sid said, going back to drying the dishes. "Not even a bit."

"Sure." A beat. "And I love rolling hose." When Sid didn't rise to the bait, Geno walked closer to Sid — Sid tried not to stiffen —  and stopped Sid's wiping with a hand on his arm. "I do something wrong?" he asked softly.

Swallowing, Sid ignored the heat that swept through him at the touch. "No, you didn't." At Geno's disbelieving scoff, Sid shrugged out of his grip and took a breath before looking at Geno. "You didn't do anything wrong. I promise."

Making a noise in the back of his throat, Geno straightened to his full height — he always seemed to be slouching; someone needed to point out how bad that was for his back — and Sid hated that it meant Geno would be looking down at him from his vantage point. "Why you treat me like this?"

"Treat you like what?" Sid asked, unable to maintain eye contact.

"Like I'm — " A pause, and then he huffed. "Like I'm do wrong. What I do?"

"Nothing," Sid said, studying the granite countertop. He'd never realized how amazing the patterns were. "At all."

"Why you act like this, then?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm — be bad!" Geno said, and Sid couldn't avoid looking at him any longer. He looked genuinely perplexed, as if he honestly didn't know what the fuck Sid was on about.

Which, fair.

“Listen,” Sid started, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about — “

“Bullshit,” Geno said, rolling his eyes. “Can’t believe you even try that.”

Now that Sid thought about it, he knew three, not two, things about Geno: he had a kid, he loved sushi, and he was fucking _stubborn_. Almost as stubborn as Sid. “I’m not trying anything, I’m just being honest.”

Prolonged eye contact for one, two, three seconds, then: “Jesus, okay,” Geno said, sighing as he muttered something under his breath before moving away.

And because Sid couldn’t leave well enough alone: “What was that?”

Glaring, Geno turned around, repeated what he’d said much louder — which didn’t matter much since Sid didn’t speak Russian.

“What does that mean?” Sid asked, crossing his arms. It didn’t sound at all flattering, which made sense, but still.

“Use google translate,” Geno said after he gave Sid a truly impressive _Are you shitting me?_ look, turning around. “I go home. Rest.”

“Fine,” Sid said to empty air. “I’m going home, too."

***

He didn’t.

Instead, he found himself staring at Duper’s front door, debating whether he should knock or not. Something he’d been debating for a good minute because what was he going to say — _Geno bothers me for no reason and I keep taking it out on him even though it’s completely unfair? What should I do, Duper?_

It made him sound like a fucking idiot, because he _knew_ what to do. He just couldn’t seem to make himself _do it_ , which had never been an issue before.

For all of Sid’s flaws, a lack of discipline certainly wasn’t one.

Obviously, the solution was to leave and pretend like he had never been about to voice all that shit aloud, which was, of course, the moment the door opened up in front of him, André staring at him, expression full of judgement.

“Dad says to come in because he’s sick of waiting. We set the table but you’re delaying us actually starting, so,” he said, and when Sid did little more than blink at him, he huffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh my _god_ , come on, I’m hungry.”

“Uh, right,” Sid said, following him in.

“I got him,” he announced as soon as Sid stepped over the threshold, and there was a cheer from the dining room. The white walls lined with pictures of Duper's kids, of Duper and his wife; the living room couches piled with blankets and pillows, the fireplace mantle filled with trophies and medals — all of the little ways the house looked so _lived in_ made it one of Sid's favorite places to visit.

“About time,” Duper said when Sid made it to the dining room, eyebrow raised, plate empty. “I was convinced I was going to grow old and die before you got in.

“How’d you know I was coming?” Sid asked, sitting down at his designated spot as he greeted everyone.

“Tanger said he saw Geno approach you before he left," Duper said, "so I assumed you were gonna make a visit after that."

"Oh." He didn't really know what to say to that, which meant it was time to change the subject. "So how's school?" he asked the kids, smiling as they all clamored to answer at once, ignoring Duper's knowing look — Jesus, Sid fucking hated that look if only because it was always _right_ — and devoting all his attention to the kids, engaging Carol-Lyne in conversation.

Part of Sid didn't want dinner to end because that meant Duper would corner him and make him spill everything, which is why it seemed to end in the blink of an eye. Before Sid even knew it was happening, Duper had pulled him out of his chair and into the living room, sharing a look with Carol-Lyne who had promptly declared, "Let's go out into the backyard and have some ice cream," which was never a suggestion that was met with protest.

So they sat there in silence, Sid sitting across from Duper, trying to become one with the couch he was on, resolved to not be the first to break. The thing about Duper was that he never _asked_ what was wrong, he just stared until the other person ended up spilling it all.

Sid shifted. Hugged a pillow to his body, picking at one of the threads. Set it down, shifted again. "Geno asked me if I have a problem with him," he blurted out, looking over Duper's shoulder.

Without missing a beat, Duper asked, "And do you?"

"No!" Sid paused, pursing his lips. "Well. No?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I _don't_ ," Sid said. He didn't have a problem with Geno. "I just think it's weird that we know so little about the guy considering we regularly put our life into his hands."

"I dunno, I feel like I know enough about him," Duper said, shrugging. "He's competent, funny, friendly — shit at picking which hockey teams to support, but we can't all be perfect."

"He likes hockey?" Sid said, sitting up. "Since when?"

"Since the beginning," Duper said, raising his eyebrow.

"How do you know?" Sid asked, furrowing his brow.

"Because I _listened_ ," Duper said, his other eyebrow rising up to join the first. "To what he actually says. Because he actually shares a lot, if you're, y'know — _listening_."

"I — I _listen_ ," Sid said. Maybe not always, sure, but he _listened_.

"Not well," Duper said. "Obviously."

Sid thought about it. "You mean I should talk to him."

"Or maybe just listen to what he's saying? Because he's been trying to get to know you better, and you keep ignoring him because — well, I don't know why."

"I haven't been ignoring him," Sid said.

Duper didn't deign to respond with anything more than an incredibly skeptical look. "Anyway," he said after a beat of silence, "I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but if you actually want to get to know him, an olive branch might be in order."

"An olive branch." Sid could do that. He looked at Duper. "What was his kid's name again?"

"And you definitely listen and definitely haven't been ignoring him, huh," Duper muttered under his breath in that way that was meant to be heard. "Nikita," Duper said, louder. "Why?"

***

"I've been kind of a dick."

Maybe not the best way to open up a conversation, especially considering they hadn't seen each other for a couple of days now, their shifts out-of-sync, but Sid liked to get to the point, even if meant that Geno was just blinking sleepily at him.

"Huh?" He looked — soft, which was. Something.

"I've been kind of a dick. To you," Sid said. _And I've tried to figure out why that might be but I don't think I wanna know the answer_ , he didn't say. "So I thought I'd make it up to you, a little. Obviously not gonna make up for — everything, but, yeah." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tickets, holding them out. "I know you like hockey, and I thought — maybe going to a game with Nikita and your — um, wife or girlfriend — y'know, it might be nice? I checked with Duper to make sure you were off for that day." In reality, he'd traded shifts because Duper _had_ scheduled Geno that day, but Geno didn't need to know that.

"...Huh?" Geno stared between Sid's outstretched hand and Sid's face. "You get me — hockey ticket?"

It had seemed like a good idea, but the longer Geno just stared at him, the more nervous Sid got; he could feel his face heating up, the urge to shift his stance almost overwhelming, but he held his ground. It _was_ a good idea. "Yeah. Unless — you don't want — "

"Sid," Geno said, face stretching into a blinding grin, which made Sid's face heat up for a completely _different_ reason — well, fuck — and reached out to take the tickets.

The realization of why he'd been so annoyed by Geno felt like it hit him in the solar plexus, _hard_.

Their hands brushed. Sid refused to believe he felt any _thrill_ or _electricity_ or any of that shit, because this wasn't happening.

"Thank you," Geno said, all genuine and warm, and Sid was — well, Sid wasn't doing so great, because of all the reasons he thought he might've been annoyed by Geno's presence, _having a crush_ had never made the fucking cut because _absolutely not_.

"No problem," Sid said, strangled, and he cleared his throat, nodding. "I'm just. Gonna go get ready for my shift."

"Yes," Geno said, still smiling, and Sid decided to leave.

He couldn't resist looking over his shoulder, though, to find Geno still smiling down at the tickets, and Sid whipped around, his heart beating fast. In his haste to get into the locker room, he bumped into Tanger, who took one look at him and asked, an immaculate eyebrow raised, "What's gotten into you?"

What Sid meant to say was, _Nothing_ , but what he ended up saying was: "I think I have a problem."

***

"So you have a crush — "

"Please don't say it like that; I'm twenty six, not fifteen."

" — what's the big deal? It's about time. I can't remember the last time you had one," Tanger said, pretending like Sid hadn't interrupted him, draping his arms across the back of his chair, beer in hand and insouciant grin on his face.

They were here because Tanger had decided dragging Sid out to the bar after work was the best solution, and since Tanger was coming, Flower had shown up, too.

"Yeah," Flower said, almost mirroring Tanger except the grin on his face was _delighted_ , instead. "This is a good thing! And Geno's quite the catch, and, y'know, apparently — " He leaned in closer, lowering his voice " — he's a _firefighter._ That's hot, right?"

"This isn't funny. Or a good thing," Sid said, glaring. "I need to — get over this. He's got a _kid_ . He's — he's _straight_!"

At once, as if they'd rehearsed — and they probably had, the fuckers — Tanger and Flower snorted.

"Right," Flower said at the same time as Tanger said, "Sure."

"And how do either of _you_ know? _I'm_ the gay one, thanks," Sid said.

Flower gave him an exaggerated patient look. "You've also spent the better part of the last month ignoring him and pretending he doesn't exist. He could be the President and you wouldn't have known."

"He's Russian," Sid said, ignoring this little tidbit of _Geno might be a little gay_. "He can't."

"Yeah, that was the point I was trying to make. So glad you got it," Flower said, taking a swig, nodding. "He fawned over Jason Momoa's abs for a good five minutes the other day."

"Straight guys say the weirdest shit about other guys when discussing workout routines," Sid said, which was a very fair point.

"Listen," Tanger said, leaning forward. "Just — let it happen, yeah? Maybe he is, maybe he isn't — maybe you're meant to be, maybe you're not. Just — let it happen."

"Right," Sid said, gaze withering. "I'll just _let it happen_."

Tanger stared at him for a second before dropping his head, and Flower patted his shoulder, faux sympathy in his expression as he said, "It's okay, you tried."

"I did," Tanger said, turning to him, nodding. "I did."

"Whatever," Sid said, taking a sip of his beer. "I'm gonna get over this. In fact, I already almost am."

***

The whole _get over him_ thing had been going great, really — Sid was friendly with Geno now, ignoring how giddy he felt anytime he made Geno laugh or smile, ignoring how much he enjoyed Geno's dramatics, ignoring how much he enjoyed Geno's _presence_ — until a couple days later where they got a call to save a cat stuck in a tree, and Sid had to witness Geno cooing at the cat in a mix of Russian and English as he tried to cajole it out for a good thirty minutes, and then watch him cuddle the cat for a good thirty minutes after as they waited for the owner to arrive.

"Sid! Look!" Geno yelled, and so Sid had to. "He bark like _dog_ ," Geno said, and laughed, delighted, when the cat did just that.

"Bark's bigger than his bite though, eh?" Sid said, smiling more at Geno's wonder than the cat itself.

"Come here, we test how big bite on you," Geno said, and Sid laughed, head thrown back.

"How's getting over him going?" Tanger asked in an undertone as he walked past, and Sid hissed back, "Shut the fuck up."

***

"He's a firefighter," Sid groaned, four beers in. This time, Flower had dragged them out. "How am I supposed to resist _that_ ? He wants to _help people_ and _save lives_. He's always doing it so well, too."

"Told you being a firefighter was hot," Flower said, and then: "Oh, hey, Duper's here!" Cupping his hands around his mouth, Flower yelled out, "Duper! Over here!"

"Who invited him?" Sid asked, pillowing his head in his arms.

"I invited me," Duper said, sitting down and ruffling Sid's hair, only for Sid to jerk out from under his grip and glare.

"That's called being rude."

"I wanna be there for my guys," Duper said, straight-faced. "I've heard you're going through a crisis."

"The only crisis I'm going through is you," Sid said. "Since you're here, you owe me a beer."

"Looks like you extended less of an olive branch and instead built yourself an olive _bridge_ here, bud," Duper said when he got back with the beer, giving Sid a _You've gotten yourself into some shit, huh_ look.

"That doesn't even make any _sense_ ," Sid said, accepting the beer. "What are you trying to _say_."

"Just, y'know — you're really in deep, huh?" Duper said, raising his eyebrows as he took a pointed sip of his beer.

"I hope you lose your eyebrows in a fire," Sid said, squinting at him.

"My eyebrows are fireproof," Duper said.

"He hasn't even met his kid yet," Flower said, as if Sid weren't _right there._ "Imagine how bad it's gonna get when he _does_."

The soft _oof_ both Tanger and Duper let out was unwarranted and fucking rude.

"I hate you all," Sid said, deciding maybe he should've kept his head buried in his arms and then doing just that.

"You're not an ostrich, Sid. Can't keep burying your head in the sand," Flower said.

"Ostriches don't actually bury their head in the sand," Tanger said. "It's a myth."

"You're not a mythical ostrich, Sid. Can't keep burying your head in the sand," Flower corrected.

"Watch me," Sid said, muffled through his arms.

***

Sid met Nikita the next day when Geno brought him over to the station, and the only thing Sid could feel smug about was that literally everyone was as whipped as he was for Nikita.

"You're a good dad," Sid said softly, standing by Geno as they both watched Tanger and Flower help Nikita slide down the pole, smiling at how wide Nikita grinned when his feet touched the floor and Flower and Tanger burst into cheers. It was nearing the end of Nikita's stay — it was shocking there hadn't been any emergency calls yet; maybe the universe was feeling particularly generous today — and Sid had spent most of it laughing along to the stuff Nikita said. God, Sid loved kids, and when Nikita had taken one look at him, asked, "You're hockey Sid, right?" and hugged him tightly when Sid had nodded, Sid had been _gone_.

Hugs in general were a great way to get into Sid's good graces, and seven year olds named Nikita apparently gave the best hugs.

The smile Geno was sporting was — new. Shy, almost, and then hidden by how Geno ducked his head. "I try. He — most important." A pause. "Harder, being — single dad, y'know?"

The question of a significant other had been one Sid had _very carefully_ sidestepped, but he now had an answer, apparently. "Oh, yeah, I can imagine. So, the mom isn't — not in the picture at all?"

"No," Geno said, shaking his head, and then looked over. "She not — take me come out very good." Looking away, he continued, softer, "Why we leave Russia. One reason." The sardonic smile he had was _definitely_ not one of Sid's favorites; he never wanted Geno to look like that again. "Being gay also hard, especially with kid. Hard, y'know, saying you gay after — not saying it."  

"Oh," Sid said, swallowing. "Oh, I — I'm sorry."

Shrugging, he said, "Find good people here, though." Arresting Sid with the intensity of his gaze, he added, "Really good people."  

***

"Told you he was at least a little gay," Tanger said, raising his eyebrows.

It was Duper this time who dragged them out, because Sid had wandered up to him and said, "Geno just came out to me and told me he was single," in a daze, and Duper had decided in the middle of the fire station probably wasn't the best place to have this conversation.

"I don't think _told you so_ is the best way to approach this, Tanger," Duper said, but every single line of his body was screaming _I told you so_.

"And Nikita — a good fucking kid, huh?" Flower asked.

Sid was silent. He was still trying to process it all.

"You okay there, man?" Duper asked, squinting at Sid after a few more moments of Sid staying silent as the rest of them moved onto marveling at how Nikita could've been raised by _Geno_ , of all people.

"Guys," Sid said, quiet, and they all sobered up, giving him their attention. "I think I — " _might be in love_ " — really like him."

"I don't think that's gonna be a problem," Flower said, just as quiet.

***

"Sid!"

Sid stopped, an automatic response at this point to Geno calling out to him, and turned around, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.

"Good thing I catch," Geno said with an easy smile, and Sid hated himself for thinking _You can catch me anytime_. "I mean to ask — wanna come to hockey with me?"

"Hockey — wait, why?" Sid asked.

"Because I want spend time with you," Geno said, as if people were allowed to just go around _saying_ stuff like that.  

They'd been hanging out — or "hanging out" followed by a lot of winks, as Flower, Tanger, and Duper always liked to frame it — a lot, but it was always at Geno's house if they were alone, with Nikita sandwiched between them as they watched a movie together or ate ice cream and played board games or cards, Geno always cheating and then insisting he _wasn't_ as Nikita laughed and Sid got louder.

Never outside, though. Never _just them_.

"Oh," Sid said, face getting warmer, heart beating faster. "Oh, I'd — yes, I'd love to." A pause. "What about Nikita?"  

"Good," Geno said, smiling. "Glad. I love, too. And Nikita… " Shrugging, he sighed, exaggerated frown on his face, "Turn out, _one_ flaw with Nikita — not like hockey game in person."

"He doesn't like going to _hockey games_ ?" Sid asked, imbuing as much incredulity as he could into it. "Oh, man, you sure he's your son?" Hockey, Sid had learned, wasn't just something Geno _liked_ , it was one of Geno's obsessions, which made it even easier to fall in love with him — having someone to yell at the TV with at stupid penalty calls and stupid plays was one of the most intimate things Sid could think of.

Sid also knew for a fact Nikita _loved_ hockey, and absolutely loved going to hockey games.

Sid was also pretty sure Geno _knew_ Sid knew.

"Guess not perfect, huh?"

"He's pretty fucking close though, huh?" At Geno's answering smile, nod, Sid said, "It's a date, then," and then cursed himself for using _those_ words.

"Yes." And then Geno stepped closer, closer, closer, looking at Sid intently. "I also want talk. About you and me."

"What — what do you mean," Sid said, mouth dry, and Geno was _too close_ but not close enough.

"I — like. You. A lot. Mean when I say is date," Geno said, looking down. "But know, I'm — have kid, is complicate, we work — "

"Yes," Sid said, knowing he should be less hasty, should talk it out before he started declaring _Yes_ , but doing things by halves wasn't the way he operated. He knew himself, he knew Geno, he knew Nikita — he knew it would work. "Yes, we should talk, yes, it's a date, yes to — all of it."

"Oh," Geno breathed, and then he smiled and it wasn't a new grin, a new smile — it was one Sid saw almost every day, aimed at him for anything and everything, but maybe Sid was just finally seeing it for what it was: Pure fondness, pure affection.

And then, Geno leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, moving back far too quick, and Sid was surprised he was still standing. "I call you?" he asked.

"Yes," Sid said. "Or I can call you." And Geno turned, starting to head out, and Sid stayed rooted at his spot, and just as Geno was about to leave the station, Sid fumbled his phone out, hit Geno's contact info, brought it up to his ear. "Or we could talk right now," Sid said when Geno picked up, and Geno turned around, laughing.

"Very cheesy, Sid," he said, his voice echoing weirdly because Sid could still hear him talking directly at him. "Good thing you cute."

***

"Guys," Sid said, and the three of them — Duper, Tanger, and Flower — turned toward him, all three pairs of eyebrows rising to the top of their respective foreheads at varying speeds as they saw who was with him. This time, Sid had dragged them all out with one very important purpose.

"Hey," Geno said, waving a little, and then shoved at Flower's shoulder until he made room. "Who buying?"

"I'll buy," Sid said, and then he very nonchalantly leaned down and kissed Geno before just as nonchalantly looking over the three of them and asking, nonchalant, "Beer fine?"

"Oh my god," Flower said, mouth falling open. "When — "

"You can't just _spring_ this on us — "

" — has this been going on this _entire time_ — "

" — both of you calling us out every other fucking day to pine — "

" — do you know how _hard_ — "

As Flower and Tanger talked over each other, getting more indignant with each passing moment, Duper leaned in, nodded his approval. "Well played."

"I play to win," Sid said, and then looked over to Geno, the smirk on his face turning into something a lot softer.

"Win most best thing," Geno said, puffing up his chest. "Me."

Which, of course, set off a round of protests and Sid let it wash over him because this was something he could really get used to.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I Love Gay, Folks, and i love Cheesy 
> 
> WAIT I HAD MY TUMBLR HERE but maybe that against the spirit of the challenge ?? i'll edit it in after ;kajsdkjf


End file.
